Rhonda, Aaron, and I were coming home from Rocco’s Town House last night after a nice dinner in our Subaru WRX, and a fellow WRX owner passed us northbound on Route 54. He waved at me and I did so in return. WRX owners are one of those examples of drivers who acknowledge each other when they see each other on the road. They are similarly likely to park next to another WRX in a parking lot.

Jeep owners are famous for this kind of behavior as well. The subculture in that community goes so far as to gift each other with little rubber ducks.

This is endearing behavior in an otherwise indifferent world. It is, too, a great example of a Granfalloon, a concept introduced in Kurt Vonnegut’s novel Cat’s Cradle:

In the madcap-but-wise universe of that founder, Bokonon, a granfalloon is an association of people who think that association means something. It is actually meaningless. A native of Indiana, Vonnegut offers “Hoosier” as an example: No Indianan has any control over the circumstances of his or her birth, yet Hoosiers they are, just as my meaningless membership is in a class of people who just happened to be born about the same time and found themselves confined within the same walls for four years of secondary education.

You can pick your Granfalloon; you might be part of one or many. Sports teams from your home town might be one of them. Eagles fans who say “I bleed green” are identifying with a Granfalloon. They are meaningless associations to which we ascribe meaning and belongingness.

Contrast the Grandfalloon to the karass identified in the same book. People in your karass are those you keep finding yourself associated with for what is not a clear reason. In the novel, they share some genuine or meaningful connection without actually knowing why. A granfalloon, in comparison, is a false karass.

You can enjoy a Granfalloon. But it’s worth knowing what one is and especially realizing that it’s a pleasant diversion, but not cosmically meaningful.